


Smoke Break

by Tamagoakura (orphan_account)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Drug Use, Frottage, Hand Jobs, M/M, underage - teenagers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-30
Updated: 2017-05-30
Packaged: 2018-11-06 19:00:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11042313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Tamagoakura
Summary: After being ditched at a party by his cousin, Keith wanders away from the festivities to find some solitude. Instead, he meets a guy who offers him some weed. Still angry with his straight-edge cousin and itching for some way to get back at him, Keith gladly accepts.





	Smoke Break

Keith leaned his back against the wall, arms crossed over his chest and eyes down. He was chewing at the inner corner of his lip, brow tight. It was hard to see in the house and the constant, ear-shattering thumping of bass gave him a headache some ten minutes ago.

Keith could still hardly believe it; Shiro ditched him. After all that time practically begging Keith to come with him to this party, insisting that he didn't get out enough, it wasn't healthy, blah, blah, blah. After all of that, Shiro ditched him. Shiro, freshly nineteen, dumped a sixteen-year-old off in a hallway the moment his girlfriend Allura showed up.

He shoved himself away from the wall and looked in both directions. If he went right, he would walk out into the main part of the house. There were so many people there, the music so loud, people sloshing beer. He looked left. There was the bathroom, a closet, and then the stairs. Up lead to Shiro, who was probably rolling around some commandeered bed with Allura by now.

But what was downstairs?

Keith walked to the steps and looked down. It was dark. Seemed quiet, and mercifully empty. Casting a look up the stairs, and one more back toward the living room, Keith descended into the darkness.

The stairs were carpeted and did not squeak. Keith hurried away from the noise, one hand on the railing and his eyes huge as he struggled to see in the gloom. Soon enough he reached the basement. He fumbled around the walls for a while, regretting having forgotten his phone at home even more now than he already had been since he noticed. Eventually his fingers landed on the tiny nub.

The space flooded with light. Keith squinted his eyes against the sudden change, lips pulling into a grimace. The basement was fully converted into a comfortable den. One wide-open room dominated the space, with a large TV and a few seats on one end and a pool table on the other. To his left, just beside the stairs, was the door to the laundry room. Across the way, near the TV area, was another door.

Keith heard voices coming from upstairs and flipped the light off. The last thing he wanted was to attract drunk party-goers. He moved quietly through the den, navigating with some ease through the wide-open space, until he reached the far room.

He stood there a moment with one hand on the knob. Was he allowed to be in here? Was he allowed to be down here at all, for that matter? He wondered if he would get Shiro into trouble and almost turned back before a petty, scheming thought cropped up.

_So what if Shiro got in trouble?_

It was Shiro's fault that Keith was here at all. If it were up to him, he would have stayed home. He would never have come to this party, full of people Shiro's age, no one he knew. To make it worse, Shiro was strictly straight-edge and would blow a gasket if he found out his cousin Keith was drinking. So he was stranded, alone, bored, and couldn't even have a beer to pass the time.

Keith slipped into the room and closed the door behind himself.

He sniffed the air and frowned. What was that smell? He had not noticed it out in the den but in here, it was stifling.

The soft shuffle of fabric behind him made Keith twist around in fear, "Who's that!"

"I think I'm the one who should be asking that," a voice replied, followed by a short burst of coughing.

A lamp clicked on beside a bed. In that bed, there was a guy. A teen, Keith's age from the look of him, sprawled over messy sheets. His hair stuck out every which way, like he had only awoken minutes ago. His baggy blue pajama pants rested loosely against his hips. Keith noticed a wad of white fabric lying in a pile on the floor beside the bed. Probably this guy's missing shirt. In his left hand was the culprit for the smell: a half-smoked joint.

"Sorry," Keith said, grabbing the door knob. "I'll go."

"Don't worry about it," the guy said, sitting up. Keith noticed the lines of his musculature, the agile twist of his body, and assumed he was probably on the swim team.

"Keith."

"Huh?"

"I'm Keith," he repeated.

"Lance."

"Sorry for waking you, I should go."

"I wasn't sleeping," Lance said. He leaned his elbow against his knee and took a slow hit off his joint. When he spoke, his voice croaked until he released the smoke, "You don't look old enough for one of my sister's parties."

"My cousin brought me."

Lance snickered, "Then what are you doing down here?"

Keith clenched his jaw. Being ditched was embarrassing enough, there was no way he was going to tell some pot-head.

Lance chuckled, smoke billowing from between his teeth, and extended the joint toward Keith. "Want a hit?"

"No thanks," Keith said, turning the knob.

"Smoking weed in here with me is better than sitting around out there, right?" Lance asked, nudging the drug Keith's way.

Keith looked at the small twist in Lance's hand. If Shiro would lose it over beer, he would have a nuclear meltdown if he found out Keith was smoking weed.

He remembered that Shiro was upstairs right now, pawing away at his girlfriend without a care as to where Keith was, and released the door knob, "Fine."

"Kick that towel back by the bottom of the door," Lance said, motioning to the floor by Keith's feet. The teen looked down and noticed there was a brown towel squished up on the floor. It had been pushed away from the door when he entered the room. So that was how Lance was keeping the scent contained.

Keith did as he was asked, then took a few steps toward the bed to take the joint. He looked down at it, studied its thin paper, the gentle twist in the shape, the line of the seal, the burnt gray around the bottom of the smoking red cherry. He lifted it to his lips and inhaled.

His lungs felt like they were being shredded. He hacked loudly, one hand coming up to cover his mouth as he handed the joint back to Lance, almost doubling over with the sheer force of his coughing. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes as he forced a ragged breath in and tried to control his quivering lungs.

" _What-_ " another fit of coughing, " _What the hell?_ "

"It's alright, baby lungs. You'll get the hang of it." Lance laughed, patting the edge of the bed. "Come on, sit down and I'll show you."

Keith gave himself a moment to force in more air and wait for the pain in his chest to ease. If smoking was always like that, he could not begin to fathom why anyone did it. Maybe Shiro had been right about drugs.

Lance leaned his torso over the side of the mattress and pulled a small round cookie tin, the kind a grandma would offer candies from, out from under the bed. With the small remainder of the joint between his lips, he pulled it open to reveal a bad of weed, an herbal grinder, a tiny scissor, a box of paper clips, a few lighters and a pack of rolling papers.

He ground up some of his weed and easily rolled it into another joint. By the time it was complete, the old one was but a stump. Lance blotted it out against the tip of his tongue - Keith wondered how the hot coal did not burn the teen's soft pink flesh, but he did not ask - and dropped it in a little pile of similar stumps.

"Alright," Lance said, placing the joint between his lips and lighting it. "Just follow my lead."

"Okay," Keith said hesitantly, the ache of raw burning pain still all too real in his lungs.

Keith watched intently as Lance brought the joint to his lips and slowly inhaled. He noticed the teen kept his lips slightly split. Probably to allow for better airflow and lower the heat, Keith theorized. Slower inhale, lips open. Got it.

Keith started to reach for the drug and Lance shook his head, "Don't move."

He leaned forward, until he and Keith were face-to-face and Keith was turning red. Lance tilted his head as if to kiss him, until their lips were almost touching, and said, "Open your mouth."

Shocked still, Keith did as he was requested. He blinked in surprise when Lance slowly released the smoke from his lungs into his mouth. Keith inhaled, sucking the curling gray smoke past his own lips and into his lungs. He would have been surprised to find that it did not burn if it was not for his brain going haywire with embarrassment.

Lance pulled away and grinned wolfishly, "See? Easy."

"Y-yeah," Keith stammered. His own voice sounded strange when thick with smoke, a tiny whisper of a nervous tremble at the end of the word. He released the smoke and took a moment to roll his tongue in his mouth, investigating the flavor. It tasted a little different than his first attempt.

Lance took another hit and leaned in close. More used to it, Keith met him halfway and opened his mouth. Thick smoke filled his lungs and now that the surprise was not there, Keith noticed the heat of Lance's breath, the gently humid feel of it against his lips that made them tingle even after he pulled away.

"I don't think I've seen you around school," Keith said.

Lance pressed his lips together in poorly-hidden irritation. He took another hit and this time he spoke without offering any to Keith, "We have three of the same classes."

Keith stared at him a moment, sure that must have been a joke. Lance looked completely serious.

"We have history and math together this year," Lance sighed, his tone almost insulted. "We've been in the same gym class since freshman year."

Keith sat there a long while, trying to come up with a good response and failing. Instead, he said, "Oh."

"Whatever, here," Lance held the joint, half-gone, to him. "Try it yourself this time."

Keith took it, wondering how he had managed to remain ignorant of Lance's presence at school. Was he seriously that distracted in class? Well, Keith did spend a lot of time staring off into space during class, despite his good grades... Maybe he really hadn't noticed the other teen until now. He wondered if they ever spoke.

He held the joint to his lips and, copying what he saw Lance do, he took a slow, shallow hit. It was not a comfortable sensation, still too warm compared to the feeling of Lance's breath, but it did not hurt. He only coughed lightly, catching half of it into the side of his fist, and handed the joint back to Lance.

"Fast learner," Lance commented and took a hit.

When he handed it back to Keith this time, Keith actually had some issue grabbing it. He hadn't really noticed before, but a sensation was creeping into his brain. A kind of blunted, fuzzy feeling in his head accompanied by a sense of giddy comfort. The bed felt softer, he noticed, and all of a sudden he kept worrying about the cherry burning his fingers despite it only being at about the halfway point.

Lance's laughter pulled him out of his trance staring at the drug.

"Problems?" He chuckled.

Keith shook his head but said, "Yeah."

"Need help?"

"I'm going to burn myself," Keith said, the end of his word tapering off into a soft giggle.

"Want me to do it?"

Keith looked at him and nodded.

Lance took the joint back and inhaled a lungful of smoke, then leaned in so slowly blow it into Keith's mouth. The bed creaked as he turned his upper body, the mattress dipping gently where his hand pressed against the blankets and creating a small pit that tilted them both closer together. Lance hovered there after the smoke had gone, so close that Keith could feel the heat coming off him, see every detail of his blue eyes, smell the scent of his body wash.

He let the smoke slowly escape from his mouth and nose, attention stolen by Lance's proximity, and said, "I, um, this is weird but..."

Lance stayed where he was, waiting for him to speak.

"I- Can I kiss you?" The words were hardly a whisper, the movement of speaking almost making their lips brush together.

Lance's bloodshot eyes narrowed further than they already were as he smiled, "Sure."

Keith closed the tiny space between them, pressing his lips to Lance's smoother, warmer ones, and sighed. He let his eyes fall shut, his mind drowning in hazy brain-fog. Lance's lips felt wonderful, so plump and soft as he responded to Keith's movements but did not push further.

Keith rested his hand on Lance's free one and was surprised at how soft the skin was. Keith's hands were rough from helping work on Shiro's car so often, but Lance's felt like he moisturized twice daily and did not do more hands-on work than maybe washing dishes.

Lance's lips brushed along Keith's own, then to his jaw to press soft kisses along the skin, down to press one on his neck, then back up to find his lips. Keith maneuvered his hand so he and Lance's fingers could lace together. He leaned in a little more, kissed more firmly, and just as he opened his mouth to poke his tongue through, Lance pulled away.

Keith blinked in confusion but before he could say anything, Lance took a long hit off the joint, doused the cherry with his tongue, then leaned over to drop the slightly squished roach into his weed tin.

His hands free, Lance leaned back against the headboard, one leg hanging off the edge of the bed and the other bent lazily at the knee. Keith's eyes moved from his tousled hair, bare chest, the crease in his flat belly from how he was lying, his pajama pants practically hanging off his hips, the blanket and sheet wrinkled beneath him.

Keith swallowed thickly and leaned forward, practically crawling over Lance to regain access to his lips. He propped himself up over him, one hand on the bed and the other holding the headboard. "Can I?"

"Weed make you horny?" Lance asked, reaching to run his fingers through Keith's hair.

"Yeah," Keith laughed. "I guess it does."

"Me too," Lance's fingers tangled in Keith's hair and pulled him forward, bridging the gap between them. He took more intuitive this time, now that he wasn't going to burn himself or something else, kissing Keith more passionately.

Keith shivered at the sensation of his hair being tugged, pushing into the kiss and matching Lance's excitement. When Lance opened his mouth Keith wasted no time deepening the kiss, lapping at Lance's tongue with a rapidly increasing fervor.

Lance released his hair in favor of cupping his cheeks in his hands. The feel of it was soft, comfortable. Keith sighed almost inaudibly into Lance's mouth, shifting his weight onto one arm so he could use his free hand to squeeze his toned thigh.

Lance's lips worked against his, far above his level of expertise. His teeth gently pinched Keith's lower lip and tugged. A quiet chuckle poured straight into his mouth, more lips and tongue and the taste of old smoke. One of Lance's hands slid down the length of Keith's body to palm his ass, squeeze and scrape his nails over the fabric. Keith groaned at the sensation, his hips rolling down to try and find some friction.

He felt Lance smile against his lips.

"What?" Keith breathed, running his hand flat over Lance's firm stomach.

Lance looked at him a moment, as if caught off guard, then his smile grew, "Just enjoying myself."

"I feel..." Keith dropped down to kiss Lance deeply, his voice slipping breathily out between presses of their lips. "...really good."

"Weed's great," Lance said, the words husky in his throat. He tilted his head back, wordlessly asking for Keith's mouth on his neck's sensitive skin.

"Yeah it is," Keith agreed, pushing himself up to hover over Lance. His dusky blue eyes ran over the teen's tousled hair, reddened eyes, kiss-plump lips, swarthy nipples, down past his smooth stomach to appreciate the impressive rise in his pajama pants. "But I don't think that's why."

Lance pushed his hand down his pajamas and freed his cock. Keith stared at it, a sharp bolt of arousal making his own dick twitch in his pants as Lance slowly pumped himself.

"You want to ride me?"

Shiro's voice popped into his head, nagging him about protection. Keith swallowed the laugh that threatened to break free, worried it would seem like he was scoffing at Lance's offer. He had forgotten all about Shiro. Served him right, he had been the one to forget about Keith first, after all. If Shiro knew he was messing around with a guy he just met, classmate or not, he would lose his mind.

As appealing as such a rebellion sounded, Keith was also still a virgin. The most he had done before this was a round of seven minutes in heaven with another boy nearly three years ago. Lance seemed like he knew what he was doing and, as much as Keith hated to admit it, that was both a turn-on and deeply intimidating.

"Let's try something else," Lance said, breaking Keith's train of thought. He ran his hands over Keith's outer thighs and over his hips to twist his fingers into his belt loops. He tugged them gently, his eyes searching Keith's face for any hesitance.

Keith used one hand to undo his button and zipper, giving Lance the okay to pull them down around his hips. Once the fabric was around Keith's thighs, Lance held Keith's hip with one hand and used the other to rub his cupped palm over the heated bulge in his black underwear.

A gentle sound stalled in his throat at the feel of Lance's hand. His breathing was soft, shaky, as Lance explored him with practiced touches, tracing the length of his shaft, rubbing his flat palm down it, gently teasing the head until his boxer-briefs were wet with pre-come. When Lance finally freed Keith's cock from its prison the teen almost sobbed in relief.

He allowed Lance to guide his hips down until their dicks were flush together. Keith shivered at the sensation. Lance ground his hips against him, uttering a ghost of a moan against his ear. The warm, moist air felt better than he would ever have believed. Keith pushed back against him, his eyes falling shut at the sensation of Lance's cock pressing against his own. The rigidity of it, the heat, the rolling press of Lance's lithe form under him felt like it was surrounding him.

Lance used one hand to squeeze the heads of their dicks together and Keith let out what could only be described as a squeak. He would have been embarrassed if he wasn't so astonishingly aroused, the sensation blending with his high to blanket his brain in a thick haze. Shame be damned, he just wanted to _come_.

Keith thrust into Lance's hand, matching the time of his strokes. He dropped his head down to rest his forehead on his shoulder and used his newly freed hands to grab Lance's hips. He pulled them up against himself, desperate to feel more of his heat and that wonderful, spine-shivering friction.

"That feel good?" Lance asked.

"God, yeah," Keith replied, latchikng his lips onto Lance's neck.

"I- hnaah- I want to fuck you." Lance said, his voice hoarse. "I bet you're so tight."

Keith squeezed his eyes shut, his cheeks getting hot with embarrassment. He could not imagine saying something so direct, even in his current state, but god did those words go straight to his groin. He would have been lying to say that he did not desperately want Lance inside of him, first time tact be damned. To take all of his pretty brown cock inside and feel it press all the right places.

"I- I'm-" Keith started to say but was unable to force the rest of the sentence out.

Lance's hand quickened, "Fuck, yes, come for me baby..."

Keith bit his lip and came, waves of pleasure washing over his entire body, down to his toes, far better than anything he had felt in his room alone before. His come shot out onto Lance's stomach, one spurt spilling into the pit of his navel, the final one little more than a weak gush of milky white that slicked Lance's hand.

The teen groaned, his grip tightening on them both, and came. His spunk joined Keith's on his chest, leaving a white splattered mess that contrasted beautifully against the shade of his skin. He released them and flopped back, his chest heaving but expression content.

Keith rolled off of him. He stared at the ceiling, waiting for his heart rate to ease and enjoying the afterglow. After a while he said, "Thanks. For the weed and...

"Everything," he finished, still a little embarrassed.

"No problem," Lance said, slowly sitting up and grimacing down at the mess on his chest and belly. He dug in a drawer and pulled out a box of tissues.

Keith took one when it was offered and cleaned himself up, then slid out of the bed and made himself presentable. He wondered how long he had been down here. Had Shiro noticed he was missing yet?

"Hey, look, I'm going to go to bed, alright?" Lance said.

"Oh, uh, sure, sorry," Keith said, feeling very awkward. He moved toward the door. "I should go anyway, if my cousin finds out about the drugs I'll never get out of trouble."

"Hey," Lance called after him as he turned the knob.

"Yeah?"

"See you at school," Lance cast him a charming grin. "Maybe we can smoke again some time."

"I'd like that."

Lance slid under his covers, "Maybe go see a movie after? Going to the theater stoned is great."

This time, it was Keith's turn to smile broadly, "I'd love that."

**Author's Note:**

> Written for my writing group, the VLD Writer's Association's, prompt challenge, the prompt being "drugs."


End file.
